


Colour Fade - Funeral Suits

by FriendlyFire



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn, Slowest Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8592016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyFire/pseuds/FriendlyFire
Summary: Everything was black and white. After Nate, nothing held color anymore. At first, she thought that the radiation had taken her ability to see color, but no. No, it was simply the fact that the love of her life was gone forever. The person she thought that she was going to grow gray and old with--gone. Forever and ever. That bastard took him, and her baby, away. As soon as she had left the vault she knew what she wanted, no more than that, NEEDED to do. She was going to track him down, and kill him. That was when she realized it wasn't the radiation to blame for her loss of color in the world. For her vision grew a red tinge with the rage she felt. Just barely at the edges, there was a nasty, vicious hue of crimson. Red as blood, burning as fire.





	1. Chapter 1

**_I'd blow into the wind_**  
**_And feel the colour kicking in_**  
**_I need that sellable stretchable coat_**  
  
**_To stand and draw my sword_**  
**_And cut me in to wage a war_**  
**_To shed my skin on the timber shade_**  
  
**_To pull it all apart_**  
**_And dance in circles 'round the start_**  
**_Toward the eyes, wipe the prize away_**  
  
**_Through the ghosts of fire, we flow_**  
**_Over hills and highs, we know_**  
**_Hold me now, hold me now, ohhh_**

 

 

 

 

 

It had been almost three months since I'd left the vault for the first time. I lounged on the old cot in my hotel room at the Rexford. Lazily, I twirled Nate's wedding ring around my finger, and my ring that I wore beneath it in the opposite direction. That was like us, honestly. We were such different people. In fact, when we had first met I had hated him. Well, not really, but he had irked me the wrong way. Something about that too cool for you, goody-two shoes frat boy vibe pissed me off. Like he thought he was better than me. When really, he was only at the same college as me, which was the very prestigious CIT, because his daddy paid his way in. However, when he'd asked me out to a date for milkshakes, I thought it would be amusing enough, and agreed to go. A year later or so, we were married and expecting. To be honest, I never thought Nate was that smart, but the more I got to know him, I realized he was. Not in a books smart sort of way. It was more of the kind of intelligence you can only get from experiences. Nate always gave the best advice. When he went away to the war, he told me that everything would be okay. He would come back. I wanted to believe him... but...sigh...

 

That was when I THOUGHT I was going to lose him. I had been prepared. Prepared to go through with the pregnancy on my own, prepared to raise my child as a single mother. Which is why I striving so hard to complete college even if I had been pregnant at the same time.

 

I ended up leaving CIT. I had originally studied Atomic, molecular and chemical physics, but that wasn't a field that was safe to study with a baby on the way. So, I opted for law school instead, and passed the bar exam in just under a year. Hey, what can I say, I was gifted with a brain that absorbed information like a sponge. I lived to learn.

 

I continued to daydream, until I noticed how much time had passed. The sun had just started setting when I had come upstairs to unpack, shower, and change my clothes for an evening off from all my many tasks at hand, but now it was pitch dark outside. Well, besides the vibrancy of all the neon outside in the city of Goodneighbor, even though I couldn't see any of the color. It was just bright white against all the darkness of the buildings. It was always oddly unnerving. It was so depressing; evening used to be my favorite time of the day. All the shades and hues mixing together at the end of the day. Looking like whoever painted the sky every day was washing their palette clean, and as the it drew further to the horizon, the sun washed the paint down the drain as the moon took its place. A dark navy abyss peppered with specks of twinkling lights... I let out a sigh...

 

 In other, less depressing—more annoying—news, Preston had been laying it on me this past month with the Minutemen duties. I decided I should take the weekend off for the first time since I had rejoined the world of the living. Not wanting to go back to the old neighborhood to be jumped at the first step over the bridge by someone whining about something. "My kitten is stuck in a tree, my ice cream fell off its cone, and the PROM is TOMORROW!" I whisper-yelled in a mocking voice, adding a condescending eye roll and chuckle. I'm a people person. I am. It was just, ugh, so much at once. It was overwhelming, honestly. These people acted like they were lost before I came along. When they had been getting on just fine before I showed up. If they needed real help to progress something in their life, I would get it. Yet, everything that went anywhere near south, phew, call in the one-person brigade: lil' ol' me.

 

Getting off the bed it creaked along with my old-woman groan. "Ugh, my whole body hurts. I'm 23 and acting like I'm an old woman." I let out a sigh and stretch my arms over my head and hear my spine crackle and my sore shoulder pop. I'd had to get it reset by Dr. Amari after a rather difficult scuffle with a raider. To my jubilance, and his utter despair, the fucking asshole got to experience a broken femur right before his swift and just death. I feel a satisfied, and maybe a little twisted, smile creep up the corners of my mouth. Destroying the baddies of the 'wealth was such a great outlet for all my inner rage. I quickly unzip my vault suit and throw it on the bed, followed by my horribly ratty underwear that had been washed a rewashed a million times over. At least I had put on my favorite pair the day all this shit started. Little victories, right?

 

When I entered the bathroom, it might as well have been a closet with a toilet scrunched in beside a standing shower and a sink. The light was dim and it flickered to life with an annoying buzz that was sure to put me in a foul mood quickly.

 

After I got the water as hot as it would go, which was barely above lukewarm, I hopped in with my bottles of shampoo and conditioner I'd scavved from an old pre-war mall. I began to lather in the shampoo, the smell of apples and cinnamon filled my nose. The annoying sound of the light above me was muffled by the sound of water pounding on my head from above as I rinsed my hair. It was almost peaceful. I squeezed a fair amount of the shampoo into my hand, and after forming a nice lather between my hands, scrubbed all the dried dirt and flecks of blood off my body.

 

"Huh. That's a new bruise," I muttered to myself in dry interest. To be honest, there was always a new bruise, or scrape, or scar. I continued to the final step of conditioning my hair. Hey, a girl's gotta take care of herself anyway she can these days. If it meant she could only shower when a shower was nearby, she was damn well going to go all out and pamper herself. Finished with that, I rinsed off, and hopped out of the shower wrapping the moth-eaten towel around my torso. I walk out into the bedroom and breathe out a sigh of relief. The tight space of that bathroom was starting to make me itch with claustrophobia. "I can thank the vault for that little present," I sarcastically quip to the empty room.

 

I stoop in a squatting position so I can rummage through my pack on the ground. I pull out a pair of ratty jeans, but hey, they fit great. I mean, my ass, wowzah. Picking through the pack a little more, I feel the fabric of one of the few shirts I packed. “Surprise me,” I deadpanned, “Hm. Black it is.” I say the last part with dull acceptance. After standing up right again, I throw the clothes on the bed next to the Vault Suit. I look at the underwear on the bed and I feel a sour grimace pull the left corner of my mouth down, my brows furrowing as I make a disgusted noise, “Eugh.” I wasn’t on my period, so going commando wouldn’t hurt this once. Plus, those jeans were so snug, it’d probably show panty-lines. I shrugged, “Free balling it today. Why the hell not?”

 

Sufficiently dry, I throw the towel onto the nearby dresser, and pick up my jeans. Stepping into the pants, I hop in an awkward dance to wriggle them up my ass, and fasten them. I glance over the vanity nailed to the dresser and look at the goods. “Hey there gorgeous,” I say to myself, inspecting my nude back over my shoulder, taking in my ass in these jeans. I threw my shirt on without a bra, as I had boobs small enough to get away with it, and tuck the shirt into my pants. “Hey, girl!” I spin in a circle looking at myself in the mirror and laugh at myself. Hey, with all the shit I’ve been through and must put up with, I need to have a sense of humor to get through it. Or I’ll fuckin’ lose it and go off the deep end.

 

Just as I think that, my stomach whines for attention, “But of course, Audrey II,” I begin, rubbing my belly, “I will feed you!” Chuckling, I start humming the intro to Little Shop of Horrors, brushing my hair and letting it fall in damp ringlets. I find my charcoal eyeliner and lipstick. “Ah, the luxuries of a woman,” I croon. Drawing on some simple cat-eyes, and painting my lips a deep shade of matte burgundy, or at least that was what the tube of lipstick said. I just liked a vampy lip, to be honest. I stare at myself in the mirror; beauty and brains. I remember Nate wondering how a guy like him could be so lucky to get a girl like me. Truth was, it was all for show. I hated myself. I just overcompensated with a flashy personality, abrasive attitude, and arrogant display of self-confidence. It was all put on. Hell, I even lied to myself. Parading around my room this whole time trying to believe my own lies. “Hey, girl...!” I give a half-hearted cheer. “Ugh, I need to get slammed. I don’t want to remember my own name by the end of the night.” I walk to the door of my room, and after shoving my feet into my boots, I lifted the bomber-jacket from the coat rack and shrugged it on. It was late into November and the ‘wealth was a bitch this time of year.

 

 It was nice to be able to dress up. Usually I was in that damned Vault Suit. It was either that, though, or chance getting a laser to the chest and making friends with the new hole in my chest cavity. Plus, all the bulky leather pieces I put on for some extra protection. Yet again, I was very pleased with the fact that I was currently absent of all sorts of bullet and knife holes in my body, and I was planning to keep it that way if I could. I’d bitten the bullet a few times, but it was never serious. When it happened, I’d dig it out myself and sew it shut, but sometimes the bullet would get lodged somewhere I couldn’t reach and off to the nearest Doc I’d go.

 

Casually, I strolled down the street towards the Third Rail, nodding at one of Hancock’s city watchmen I was familiar with. Not because I came here all the time on my down time or anything… No… After closing the steel door shut behind me, I sauntered up to Ham, “Howya?”

 

Ham grunted, “Could be better, could be worse, know what I mean?” He gave me a cool smirk, it barely touching his eyes.

 

I gave him a short cough of a laugh, and nodded, “Don’t I know it?” I give my head a light shake, grinning, “I’ll just be heading downstairs, have a goodnight, Ham.” He grunts, as per usual, but allows me a rare smile.

 

Suddenly perking up a bit from my dour mood, I practically skip down the stairs. I was excited to get good and tight, already planning what drink I was gonna order to start. Just as I got to the bottom stair I felt someone right at my back. I take the last step down, and move to the side and turn so I can look at whoever was in so much of a damn hurry to get down the stairs. It was this skinny looking guy in a faded green duster, with a one of those army men caps. Said cap was pulled down just so, making it impossible to get a good look at his face. Shady character, I thought. He had it written all over him.

 

Shrugging, as I saw him head for the back lounge, I turn on a heel, giving a shit less, and refocusing on my acquisition of an alcoholic beverage. “Charlie!” I call out to the robot in a condescendingly chipper tone, “Best friend!”

 

            Charlie barely pretends to notice me, putting on his little tough guy act he was programmed to do. When I reach him, I put on my best smile, flashing my teeth, “Waddaya say to a discount on tonight’s binge?” The robot actually rolls his proboscis eyes at me, “Uhuh… Sure, but only cuz’ I like ya so much,” he deadpans.

            “Oh, it wouldn’t have anything to do with me being play mates with your boss, would it?” “Not at all, ‘gov. Not at all…,” he emphasizes the last ‘all’ by lengthening the end of it, sarcastic bastard as always. God, I loved whoever programed this Mr. Handy. I only put up with Codsworth because he was the only person I knew from the old world. Everyone else was dead. He was a good robot. Real sweet. Real annoying. Real fast.

 

            I’d taken a seat at the bar, on my fourth drink and only an hour in. I could feel the booze start to work its magic. Already, I’d forgotten what I was even depressed about earlier. Too laser focused on Magnolia’s cleavage. You know that stereotype that guys like to stare at boobs? It was bullshit, because girls did it, too. At least, I did. Whether I swung that way was irrelevant—even though I did, I was bisexual—it should still be normalized that girls can find boobs pleasing to look at, too. Who didn’t love boobs? They were soft and warm and…. God, did my mind go to shit when I was drunk. How fucking stupid did alcohol make me to think about shit like this. I burst out into laughter, thankfully drowned out by the loud music that was playing in the bar. I pounded my fifth shot of whiskey, feeling it scald its way down my throat, growling out a sound of approval. “This top shelf shit is beautiful, Charlie.” I bit out, “Another, if you’d be so kind.” As I requested this I handed the robot a purse of caps, telling him to keep it flowing until the money ran out. Charlie wasn’t one to chastise me about my drinking habit. Okay, it was more than a habit, it was a passion. But it wasn’t like I was addicted or anything! Well, maybe a little bit, but it wasn’t a big deal! We all have our vices. Bite me.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

                                                                                                             

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

            I was just over three hours into my night’s bender, and I’d lost count of how many shots of everything behind the bar I’d had. I was a happy, flirty drunk, so I was feeling damn good by this point. All except for the fact that I was literally burning up in this overcrowded bar. Too many bodies crammed into this little space. Not to mention how noisy it had gotten with conversation. I hammered the rest of my current drink down, and stood a bit too quickly, wobbling for a moment. Soon enough, I regained my balance and with a confident swagger, I strolled back towards the VIP lounge. It outta be cooler back there.

 

I opened the door to the room and closed it gently behind me, pressing my back against the cool metal door. As I sighed in contentment, that was when I heard a muffled argument coming from down the hall. Smiling, I crouched, somehow managing to be perfectly quiet so I can sneak up and eavesdrop. From what I could see it was the skinny guy from before being threatened by what looked like two avid buffout connoisseurs, wearing that typical douche-y raider style. So many studded pieces of leather… Were they trying to emulate a gay biker gang theme? Or was it just a happy little coincidence?

 

From what I could hear, the conversation was boring, to be quite honest. The usual, “This is my area to piss on, so you can’t piss here.” “Nah I’m gonna piss here anyway, fuck off, mate.” And que the ‘vendetta’, insert ‘vague threat’ followed by ‘lame insult’ by the walking hat rack. I roll my eyes. Typical men, bickering over such pointless shit. Suddenly, I stand up. Sober, I’d probably regret what I was about to do, but alcohol allows for a special kind of brilliant idiocy.

 

“Ladies, ladies,” I begin, holding my hands up in mock worry, “all three of you are pretty.” The three men turn to stare at me. I finally get a good look at Skinny Mcgee’s mug. Not drop dead gorgeous, but also, not too shabby for now-a-days standards. He had nice eyes from what I could see. This deep crystal blue color… Huh… That was weird. I could tell what color they were. Everything else about him and around him was black and white. Except for those eyes of his. He was giving me a mix between an annoyed look and a thoroughly amused smirk. The other two men were glaring daggers at me, but I could care less. I had my modded 10mm tucked into the back of my jeans, hidden by my jacket.

 

I give them a mocking smile, and in a patronizing voice I say, “Now who wants to start on the friendship bracelets?” I gesture towards the guy who was talking to Skinny Mcgee, and mock him by saying, “I assume you want yours all black leather and studded? To fit that gay biker gang theme, you got goin’ on.”

 

The quiet one turns to the one I’d just addressed, “You already made me put up with his bullshit, now I have to put up with this?!”

 

“Now, now,” the other guy responds to him, putting a hand on his partner’s shoulder, “I’ve never seen this one around, so she must not know who she’s talking to.” He turns his attention to me, “Listen, doll, it’d be best if you just forgot everything you saw here tonight, ‘kay?” He smiled, but there was no warmth to it. In fact, it was more threatening than anything.

 

“Yeah, sure,” I scoff, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. “I think Lanky, over there, gets the point, too. So waddaya say you just mosey on your marry way, kiddo?” The look on all three of their faces was priceless. It was hard to keep my face in the easy smile I had going, but I wasn’t about to break the, ‘you don’t scare me’ attitude. “‘Kay?” I add the last part to mock him.

 

The guy narrows his eyes for a moment, his buddy gauging his partner’s reaction. Finally, they just give the skinny one a final glare and warning, and brush past me and out the door. “Well, that was fun!” I cheer and start walking over to Mr. Grumpy-pants. (I need to settle on a nickname for this guy.) “So, Stretch,” I begin, giving him a flirty grin, “what was all of that about?” A stop myself from going on and chuckle, “Actually, I eavesdropped the whole thing, but interrupted you guys because it was so boring I had to put a stop to it.”

 

He scrunches his face into a confused grimace, “Lady, who are you? Are you a trader or one of those bat-shit crazy assholes preaching about the Atom? Or just looking for a friend? Because, whatever way, I’m not interested.”

 

I snort at him, “Aw, come on. We can always use more friends…?” I trail off in a way to ask for his name.

 

He ignores me and instead says, “No, what I need is caps and a lot of them. Now listen, if you’re here because you’re interested in hiring me, then sure. Otherwise, get lost.” I lift a brow in question, “What are you? A travelling clown?” The guy rolls his eyes at me, “Mercenary,” is all he says. “That so? Well, then. You are in luck; I so happen to need a merc.” Not really, but details, details. I was curious, drunk, and had been traveling alone for the most part. Preston or Dogmeat would join me sometimes, but usually I was by my lonesome. “How much?” “250 caps up front. No haggling.” My face lights up at this. As my smile slowly broadens, his face sinks into a grimace. “Prepare to get to know me, because I _always_ haggle. 200 caps.” He stares at me for a long time before finally holding out his hand to me, “Name’s MacCready. You just hired yourself the best sniper in the entire Commonwealth.” I bat my lashes at him as I take his hand in a firm and brief shake, “Well, I’m counting my lucky stars and the 200 caps,” as I say the last bit, I reach behind for my caps when I remember Charlie has my money. “Charlie’s got my caps, come with me.” I start to walk to the main section of the bar, MacCready following me closely.

 

As I get to the bar I flag Charlie over. He floats casually up to me, “Another shot of Jack, ‘gov?” I shake my head, with a small smile, “Need my caps back, Charlie, I think I’ve had enough for the moment.” Charlie fishes around under the bar for my caps, and after he gets the money he’s owed, he hands me the considerably lighter pouch back. It wasn’t like this was my only money. I had a safe back in Sanctuary. It wasn’t smart to carry large amounts, because if I get robbed then there’s months of work gone.

 

Anyway, I turned to MacCready and gave him a real once over, taking in his form. Skinny as hell, did I mention that yet? Couldn’t see much of his hair because that stupid hat covered most of it, though I could see some mousey brown hair peeking out of the bottom. He had an asshole resting face, which he probably prided himself on, seeing as he was a big, bad mercenary. His whole image was finished off by the sniper rifle slug across his back and shoulder. “Look, Mac, I don’t know about you, but I think we should go somewhere more private for this exchange. How’s about you come back to my hotel room where I can count your money out in peace and quiet.” And away from greedy eyes, I added mentally. MacCready seemed to get what I was saying but asked, “How do I know you won’t kill me and steal my shit?”

 

I smile at him as sweet as you like, enjoying the way it made him squirm, “Look, pumpkin,” he frowned at the pet name, “that comes with your job description. Besides, what could lil’ ol’ me do?” I flutter my lashes at him and place a hand over my heart. Mac merely grunts, and I motion for him to follow me. When we get back to the Rexford and up to my room, I tell him to dump his pack and stuff wherever. He holds on to it and ignores me instead saying, “So, how about those caps?” “Yeah, yeah, they’re coming.” I roll my eyes.

 

Cut to about a minute and a half later, “197, 198, 199,” I flourish and place the last cap in the pile, “and that makes 200, my good man.” I put the caps purse down, which was basically empty, and push the caps mountain his way. He sets his pack down, and pulls out a good size pouch out, and starts to shove the money in. “Pleasure doin’ business.”

 

I crack a smirk, “Uhuh. You’d better be worth it, pumpkin.” “Stop calling me that, I hate it,” he glowers. My smirk grows into a shit-eating grin. “Oh really…?” He stops in his current action of putting away his caps pouch in his pack, like he’d just realized the mistake he’d made, “Aw, hell.” Cackling, I say, “You just put the nail in the coffin, **_pumpkin_**.” The way the nickname hits him, I can just see him seethe with annoyance, even a faint tinge of heat on his cheeks. There it was again. I could see just the faintest bit of color. I could still see the blue of his eyes, too. It was calming, in a weird way. I continue to annoy him, however, and say, “This is the beginning to a beautiful relationship, if I say so myself.” All Mac does in response is grumble about how I had to be the most annoying client he’d ever had. Just the cherry on top of this sweet, sweet sundae.

 

“So, speaking of names, what is yours, anyway?” he suddenly asks, making his way to sit down on the couch. I follow him and sit down in the armchair beside the couch, giving him personal space, “Ah, how rude of me,” settling back into my chair, I continue, “my name is Lindsay.” “Well, Lindsay, I’m gonna go rent a room, what time d’ya wanna meet downstairs tomorrow morning?” I ponder this for a moment, humming in thought, “How about 9ish. Gives us both time to sleep in and eat.” He merely shrugs and says that’s fine.

 

I show him to the door, and open it for him after a bit more planning on where we were going to head out to tomorrow. Let him know I was part of the Minutemen and was their general and that I had some duties to take care of. He had voiced his surprise in the matter, but simply said that he never had a problem with the group personally. They were just kinda fucked up as far as he knew since Quincy. I told him that we were getting back on track now. We bid each other goodnight and I promptly hit the sack. Feeling more tired than I’d been in a long time.

 

Seeing color again had been surprisingly emotionally draining. Especially because it was this random merc. And of course, me being me, I had to go and hire him. I just hope this wasn’t gonna turn out to be a mistake. Pulling off my boots and throwing my jacket onto the rack, and shimmied out of my jeans and jumped into my bed. I sigh and get comfortable beneath the itchy blanket and try to find a position where the lumpiness of the bed doesn’t feel to awkward.

 

“I need to start planning on good ways to annoy this guy,” I giggle and fall asleep imaging a scenario where I steal his hat and put mud in it. So, that when he confiscates it back from me, he puts it on his head and gets a mudslide down his face and back. I laugh quietly, “Ahh, but I am a genius.” Eventually, I fell into a dreamless sleep, as usual.

 


	2. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. 
> 
> Let's get back into this folks.

            Today is the day. The day that I have been planning for since the very beginning… It had been a whole month of travelling with Mac—no sorry— _pumpkin_ , and we were on our way to one of my settlements. Business as usual. I was doing a tour to check on crops, repair houses and turrets, and just seeing how the settlers in general were… settling? Meh. Look, the real reason I did this at all is because I was tired of Preston whining at me. _“Another settlement needs our help!”_ I give a weary sigh and Mac looks over at me inquisitively. I stick my tongue out at him and blow some air to make a noise. A charming and, honestly, immature way to tell him to ‘bite me’. He just chuckles and shakes his head, “What are ya over there thinkin’ about, Boss?”

I crack a tiny shit-eating grin, “Your mother.”

He groans at what I said like he’s in pain, “Really, boss? For real?” We’d built up a banter. So, sweet, right?

            I take this moment to sidle up closer to him. I’m so close our arms graze each other with each step. Mac keeps his head facing the road, but looks down at me from the corner of his baby blues. Gosh, they were slowly becoming my favorite thing. Yikes, reel it in, Lindsay. That was almost so saccharine I could vomit. My face turns sour and MacCready gets a confused look on his face.

I shake my head and give him a bright smile. Heat fills his cheeks, and he looks anywhere but me now. I was always overjoyed with how easily I could toy with him. I’m evil, I know. I slowly trail my hand up his arm and smooth it over his shoulder until my arm is slung about both, in a sort of side hug. While he can maintain enough mobility to walk, I feel his entire body shiver and then go rigid. It was so _hard_ not to cackle in wicked glee. I’m sure by this point if I touched his face my hand would get burned. It was honestly criminal how cute he was when he was nervous.

            “Say, pumpkin,” I breathe out, full of seduction, “you know what I’ve wanted to do since the night I met you?” He’s finally stopped walking and is visibly shaken by the way my fingers dig, just enough, into his shoulder. I rise on my tippy toes so my breath can hit his neck. I was short as hell so this part was difficult. “I’m waiting, pumpkin,” I tell him so I can hear what he’s thinking. He’s breathing in and out of his nose like he’s trying to calm down, and I can hear his heart hammering out of his chest. Finally, MacCready turns his head just a bit, so now our faces are just mere inches apart. I lick my lips in anticipation which puts this strained sort of worried expression on his face. _As if I would try anything_ , I chastise him in my head. “G-gee boss, I dunno. Wh-what?” He finally stutters out, his voice raspy and dry.

            I bite my painted lip and look up at him through my lashes, “This…” I trail off as I lean forward slowly. Mac sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes shut tight. I bring my face so close, I can’t be more than a centimeter away. I still; freezing in place so that he does the same. That’s when I slowly, slowly, slowly reach my arms up so he can’t detect the movement. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. I’m just…about…there…

            I clamp down on his hat, and then turning on a heel just as he starts to protest, I fall into a dead sprint. We were just outside of Diamond City, so I start making my way for the gates. “Catch me if ya can, Skindiana Jones!!”

“I don’t even know what that one means!” He practically shrieks in frustration, to mask the fact that he was trying not to laugh. Meanwhile, here’s me, laughing like the devil when he steals someone’s soul. My lifelong dream of stealing the walking bean pole’s hat has come to fruition! “Catch me if you can!” I say in a sing-song voice.

            Now, I might be smart as all get out. Good with my words? That’s an understatement. However, running? endurance? agility? …Not my forte. On the contrary, guess who was good at **_all_** those things? Can I have _Things MacCready is Good At_ for 300, Alex? Here’s a hint: MacCready. MacCready is good at those things. Amazing really. I swear he never got winded from running. Even if he did it for, like, _ever!_ Damn these post-apocalyptic survivors and their freaky strong offspring. Oh, who am I kidding. I’ve always sucked at physical activity.

            While having this internal monologue, I didn’t even notice that my assailant was on my ass by this point. I truly noticed, however, when I felt two long arms wrap themselves around my middle. With a squeak, I jerked to a stop. He easily lifted me so my weight was against his chest and my feet dangled. With a nervous chuckle, I turn my head and say, “Hey, there, Mac. Have a nice run? You know, you’re stronger than you look.” His arms were unexpectedly firm, as well. I expected them to be wiry and noodle-like. That was foolish of me, now that I think about it. With how heavy that rifle of his was, it was no surprise that he had some muscle. I’d figured with how malnourished he looked he’d be weak. It was kind of heart-warming in a way, to know that humanity could still thrive in spite of it all. Mac was a shining example of that.

///

///

///

            I held onto her around the middle, tightening my grip when she tried to wriggle her way out of my grasp. “Mac!” She squealed and whined. This woman was on my last nerve. I can’t believe I caved and took 200 for this job. Would’ve asked for 2000 if I’d have only known. Hindsight is 20/20, I guess. Anyway, back to the annoyance at hand, literally. “Give it,” I easily hold her weight with one arm and raise my now free hand in front of her face with a grabby motion. “ _Now_ …” I warn in a deeper, more reprimanding tone.

            She sighs out a gruff whine, groans, and struggles again, which makes me wrap my other arm around her to keep her from getting away. Y’know… I really wish she’d stop moving so much… and makin’ those noises. God, I could feel how red my face must be. My ears burning the worst. Finally, she concedes, and makes a big show of reaching around to place the cap back on my head, slapping it down. The way she had to stretch in my arms to do that made her arch her back, causing her… h-her ass-, I-I mean rear-end press into my…. Oh, crap. I release her quickly after that, and back up a few steps. She turns around and gives me the signature grin; shit-eating mixed with condescension. “Aw, c’mon Mac! Just lemme me wear it for a little bit! Just while we’re in the city?” She bats her eyes and gives me a pouty lip. I hate it when she does that. I almost, _almost_ , give in. It took real willpower, but I gave her a very stern, “No.” It was like I was dealing with a child. This was more of a babysitting job than mercenary work at this point, to be quite honest with you. Wasn’t she supposed to be older than me? By like hundreds of years??

            “You’re no fun, Mac,” she continues to pout. I roll my eyes, and she scoffs. Turning on her heel, flipping her long hair in my face, and sauntering away, she heads toward the gates of the city.

            “Y’know, boss, it would be nice if you laid off sometimes,” I grumble. She just laughs at me with her back still turned. We make it inside the city when she gives me the job of getting some food at the noodle stand, while she restocks on supplies and bullets. “Control freak,” I mutter. She turns around at this, just barely in ear shot of what I’d said, “What was that, pumpkin?” She smiles in this threatening, too happy, sort of way. “Nothin’,” I mumble. “That’s what I thought. Now run along, sweet pea.” _So, it’s sweet pea now?_ _Ugh_. I was over it. If I made a show of the fact I disliked something, that was all she would do. She was a pesterer. Through and through.

            I meander my way over to the Japanese robot, Takahashi. As I come up on him, he says his catch phrase, “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” “Yes, sure, whatever,” I say off-handedly.  The robot says nothing else and simply begins to pour boiling water in two cup noodles. By the time the food is done and paid for, Lindsay comes sauntering over, in that way of hers, sits down on a bar stool. Patting the one beside her, as I am still standing, she beckons, “Pop a squat, partner.” She beams up at me when I do. She was so short, even sitting down. I considered myself average height, maybe even a hair above, but Lindsay? She barely came up to my chest. She was oddly thick, too. Not to sound creepy, but she just… had this weight that no one else but vault dwellers seemed to have. It was appealing… Not to be weird, or anything! I just liked it, was all.

            We ate in silence, mostly. She did ask me casual questions here and there, and I would answer. Vaulties always had this weird thing with small talk. They could never leave an empty silence. Lindsay could pick up on it sometimes. Like, when we were settling down for the night around the fire. Yet, over meals like this, it was like she felt she had to fill the quiet with idle chit-chat. Never understood that one. Once we were finished with that, it was getting dark out, so we decided head to her place in Diamond City.

She always made a fuss about sleeping arrangements. Vaulties… “Look, it’s my turn to take the couch,” she starts, looking at me hard, “I’m gonna get a drink anyway, so if you want to settle down you can.” Shrugging, I concede. I offer to take her pack and she lets me, moving on to the part of her house where she kept her alcohol.

            With a yawn, I set our packs onto the coffee table in the middle of the room, and begin to shrug off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack by the front door. I kick my boots off once I climb the stairs to the loft. It wasn’t often I got to get comfy for bed, but when a locked room was on the table—or a locked house in this case—I was taking advantage of it. Plus, I have the vaulty sharing this room, and she was more of a light sleeper than me. Down to nothing but my jeans, t-shirt, and socks, I settle into the bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. With a content sigh, I turn to my side and quickly drift off to sleep.

            Suddenly, I’m woken up by someone pushing into my front with their backside. “What the crap,” I drawl out groggily. I check my wrist watch in the dim light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door. It’s well into the night, at 2AM. I turn, now realizing just who was snuggling into bed beside me, smelling like Bobrov’s best. “Whadda ya think you’re doing, boss?” I whisper in a scratchy growl. Clumsily she turns around, hand flailing to shush my lips with a finger. She pats my face looking for my lips, with a “Shhhhh, shush, shush, shush. Iss fine. Don e’en worr ‘bout it.” She’s slurring her speech and her breath smells of alcohol something awful, but finally, she placed a tiny index finger over my lips to quiet my protests.

Lindsay’s practically lying on top of me at this point, and it’s getting hard to focus on anything else but the way her body feels up against mine. She’s so warm and soft. “L-listen, Lindsay,” I stutter out when I notice she’s shed her pants. She was only wearing a black t-shirt and her underwear. She ignores me and snuggles into my side, her nose pressed against my left pectoral. I start to sit up, but this causes her to whine and cling to me. Across the end of the bed, I see her bra lying hap-hazard off the edge. I feel my blood sky rocket in temperature. She lifts her leg up and lays it on my stomach, which causes my shirt to ride up. I can feel the silky warmth of her thigh pressing into me. It sets a flame in the pit of my stomach, making it increasingly difficult to control myself.

            I’m wide awake now, and becoming progressively hotter as she moves against me. “Aw, fu-, I mean crap,” I correct myself, “Look, Lindsay. You need to let me go.” She whimpers again, “You’re comfy.” Her face is in the crook of my neck, and I can smell the familiar sweetness of her soap. I close my eyes, trying to reinforce my concentration away from the body currently clinging to mine. It’d been _so long._ Breathing in and out slowly, I begin to pry her from me. She tries to fight against me, but she’s too drunk and her attempts are weak. After I get away from her, I walk down the stairs and over to the couch, and taking the blanket resting on the back of it, I get settled.

            Lindsay is already conked out on the bed, if her faint and even breathing has anything to say about it. “Christ, you’re a handful,” I whisper. She mumbles in her sleep, “G’night, Mac.” “Pfft, yeah. Night, Boss.” I try to sound grumpy, but I’m laughing at her now. I can’t wait to tease the tormenter about this tomorrow.

 

///

///

///

            “Alright, enough, Mac!” I shout in annoyance. My head was pounding with the worst hangover I’ve had since before the bombs fell. MacCready was currently mocking the living hell out of me about last night. I already felt plenty mortified and shitty as it was. Yet, this was the perfect opportunity for him to get his petty revenge. He laughed at me and continued his tongue-in-cheek parade of walking me through every embarrassing thing I’d said and done the night before.

            “Your comfy,” he over-acts my voice, putting too much force on the female quirks. I grumble and drink the instant coffee from my Thermos. “Shut the fuck up, Mac.”

            “Ah, ah. That’s not very lady-like, boss,” he condescends.

            “Get fucked, and shove your antiquated notions up your ass, prick.” My voice doesn’t quite have the venom I’d intended. So instead of shutting up, he just laughs harder at me. “Where’s the loyalty, you asswipe.” I grumble.

            “Dead and gone the minute you sexually assaulted me last night,” he quips.

            “I WAS _DRUNK_!” I yell, sitting down at the kitchen table of my home, taking another drink of my coffee. “I swear to god, I wish I would’ve poisoned your coffee.”

            He clucks his tongue, “Now that would’ve been a waste of coffee, boss.” Taking a long swig of his own coffee to add to his point.

            The rest of the morning is spent with him teasing me, until finally I can’t take it anymore. We’d just gotten a half an hour into our hike to the next settlement, when I snapped. I turn on a heel, and stride up to MacCready who was about five paces behind me. He usually was, since he liked to keep an eye out for the chance of bandits stalking us.

            When I got up to him, I grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him down so he was bending over, and looking me right in the eyes. I was about to cuss him out and yell about how I was going to break his nose if he didn’t shut the hell up. Yet, the look of surprise, and _hurt_ , in his eyes made me falter. He seemed shocked I’d put my hands on him like that. It made me instantly let go, and take a small step back. He stands up straight again, and looks down at me worriedly. I think he felt bad about tormenting me so much. I sigh, and run a hand through my hair. It was short, since I’d cut off into a short bob. It went to just past my chin, and was just as wavy and red as before. It was just easier to wash, and didn’t get in my way as much.

            After staring at the ground for a while, I sigh. “Look, I’m sorry I did that, but please. I already feel shitty enough, can you just stop?”

            I hear him sigh in response, before saying, “Yeah, it’s okay, Lindsay. I’m sorry for being such an ass—I mean—I’m sorry for being so harsh on you.”

            With a hand, I wave him off, “It’s alright. I’m no better to you. I pick on you a lot, too.”

            “That’s just your personality, boss.” I look up and he’s smiling at me. A cute little grin, that barely lets me see his teeth.

            I smile, too. “Thanks, Mac. I promise I won’t call you pumpkin anymore. Truce?”

            He reaches out a hand, and I shake it. “Truce,” he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Hope you enjoy. Leave a kudos and a comment and let me know what ya think! Mwah! <3


End file.
